I Feel Cold
by Captain L
Summary: NonSlash. Alternate Ending included! Jack goes back to Port Royale with a ship full of pirates to visit Will. Will isn't quite the same Will they left there two years ago. Written long before the second and third movies came out.
1. Prologue

Standard Disclaimer. I own nothing. Don't sue, no money, etc etc etc.  
  
This is angst / action / drunkenness. There will be no slash. The only way you could possibly mistake this for slash is if you've never seen two guys get drunk together and fall all over the place howling, 'I LOVE YOU, MAN!' and intermitantly bawling and laughing. In which case, go out and watch two guys get drunk before you read this.   
  
  
Prologue  
  
    Jack Sparrow—excuse the authour—CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow stood at the helm, staring across the deck of his ship, across his ocean, to his horizon. His crew was getting tired; they needed some time on land, or all manner of disease would set in. He didn't care to keep limes on his ship, so… A trip to land was in order.  
    Captain Jack Sparrow, unlike his crew, was not tired in the least. He was in the mood to out-run, out-talk, or out-gun something.  
    Gibbs approached on the deck, tiny flask in hand, uncapped. He made sure Jack was watching, then up-ended it in protest. "Ship's run dry, Jack."  
    Jack sighed, pretending to be irritated. "Water, water, e'rywhere, an'-"  
    "Not a spot o' alcohol," Gibbs finished pointedly.  
    "Alright, alright, land it is," he grumbled just loud enough to be heard. He turned as Gibbs started up the steps to stand next to his captain.  
    "I'm not quite in the mood for Tortuga, though," the older man said quietly.  
    Jack scoffed loudly. "Not 'n th' mood for Tortuga, mate?! You hear that, dogs?" he shouted to the rest of the crew. "GIBBS isn't in the mood for Tortuga!"  
    A general mockery rained down from the rigging, and gusted over the deck to them.  
    He chuckled. "Well, we should be passing Port Royale n' around this ev'ning. Care to make a stop there, incognito? 'Ave ourselves a lil vacation?"  
    Gibbs grinned in reply. "Aye, whatever gets us to land." And he wandered back to his post.  
    'S time for a visit, Will me boy. Let's see what you done for yerself.  
  
    In the cover of a new-moon night, the Black Pearl glided to a halt just outside the cove. Two longboats lowered soundlessly into the water and floated to shore, laden with an unspeaking, soundless crew.  



	2. Keep it all bottled up

  
Messages to reviewers at the bottom.  
  


* * *

  
    The first thing Jack noticed was that Will was in his shop. He could hear the clang of metal from down the little street. He grinned toothily- maybe he would get a good fight out of this, too, just for old times sake. He edged around to the door, and nudged the door off its latch quietly. Under the cover of metal hitting metal, Jack stowed himself inside and closed the door.  
    Now he was faced with a dilemma; what kind of an entrance to make. While he pondered this, he watched Will working the metal. There was something different about him. He was stooped over a little too far. The hammer strikes came a little too slow. His form was a little too small. The donkey was just a little too disinterested. All in all, things were just different enough to put Jack out of his usually swaggering disposition.  
    Will set the hammer aside and transfered his molten project to a barrel of water nearby, cooling it and sending steam up in hisses. Jack snuck up behind him and peered over his shoulder.  
    "That's gonna be a pretty sword, mate."  
    Will reacted before he recognized the voice. The still-hot metal came up as he swung over his shoulder at Jack.  
    Just a little too slow. Jack sidestepped and caught Will's wrist in one hand, and warded off any further action with his other hand.  
    "Jack!" The blacksmith exclaimed, more in shock than anything. He relaxed a bit and returned the sword-in-progress to the forge side, resting against the stone where it could cool slowly.  
    "'S been some years, Will," Jack grinned, stepping backward to allow Will some space. He regarded his old friend amiably, but still had the toothy demeanor of a wolf.  
    "Almost two," Will agreed, visibly overjoyed. He rinsed his hands in the barrel of water used to cool the sword, wiped them on his thick leather apron, then untied said apron and tossed it onto one of the nearby workbenches.  
    Jack surveyed the room again. "This place yours now?"  
    "Yes," he answered, smiling. Then his smile fell. "Not for long, I fear."  
    "An' why are ye fearin' that?" the pirate prompted, walking with Will away from the heat of the forge and toward a window.  
    Will opened the window and enjoyed the cool night air for a moment before answering, "Another blacksmith moved in from England, he's putting me out of business."  
    Jack frowned.  
    "He does not charge as much as I do, but he doesn't do quality work. People hire him to do the wrought-iron fences and window bars that are in style now. His work falls apart within a year, and they just go right back to him, to get it replaced for the same amount he charged them the first time."  
    "But his work is shoddy?"  
    "Yes," Will paused for a moment, crossing his arms in front of him and shivering a bit as a gust of wind blew through the window. "Atleast the governor kept the military contracts with me until they ended."  
    "Your own dad-in-law sold you out?" Jack exclaimed-- even a pirate knew that was low.  
    "He's... he's not my father-in-law anymore, Jack." Will closed his eyes and bowed his head, almost until his chin rested on his chest. Somehow, the wind seemed colder.  
    With a frown, Jack pulled him away from the window and closed it, and led him to the small cart, closer to the forge's warmth. "Now, what are you on about, the old man not bein' your kin?"  
    "Elizabeth left me, Jack," Will whispered. In the shocked silence that followed, he continued, "She was in love with a pirate. I wanted to settle down, have children, but she said that, talking like that, I sounded too much like her father or Commodore Norrington." Here he paused.  
    "Ungrateful wench!" Jack bellowed, stalking back and forth in front of the cart. "After what ye did fer her?!"  
    "She was in love with a pirate, Jack. I'm not a pirate."  
    "How can ye not be angry?" he boomed.  
    Will bowed his head again. "She doesn't want me," he murmured. "That's her decision to make."  
    "Where is she now, hm? Did she go an' marry Norrington?"  
    "No, I don't know what she did. She got on a ship the first chance she got and went off somewhere. I don't know. Jack, quit pacing. Sit down."  
    Jack stopped and eyed the cart warily. "No, 's okay, too many bad mem'ries."  
    Will wrinkled his eyebrows, then looked at the cart and smiled a little.  
    "AH!" Jack pointed at him suddenly. "I bet she went off t' Tortuga an' became a whore. If she's so in love wi' pirates, tha's where she'd be."  
    "I don't think so."  
    "Well, why not?"  
    "She was with child when she left. She wouldn't have done well in Tortuga."  
    Jack physically reeled backward a step. "Wha'd ya say, mate?"  
    Will stared at the floor and gritted his teeth, refusing to repeat himself.  
    "Ye... you... she..." Jack gestured wildly in irritation, then turned around and kicked an opportune bucket as hard as he could. "She lef' wi' yer child?!" He proceded to rant in some language Will didn't understand, and pace wildly about the shop. For a full minute and a half he cursed in tongues; he turned and stopped in midgesture.  
    Will was hunched over, arms crossed in front of him, head down, eyes closed, sobbing quietly.  
    "Ohhh, mate," he murmured, forgetting his previous contentions about the cart and going to sit next to him. "Will, I'm sorry." When he got no response, he set an unwashed hand on Will's shoulder. "'N th' absense of your father, I feel it's necessary t' tell ye there's only one thing a real man does 'n situations like this one."  
    Will looked up warily.  
    "Keep it all bottled up until it makes ye feel sick, th'n go out and get really, really drunk, so drunk ye want t' talk about it, th'n ye sit wit' yer ol' buddy Jack, an' ye tell 'im e'rything."  
    The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Will's eyes.  
    "Now, I think ye got th' bottled-up part 'f it jus' about down, but you're goin' about th' second part all wrong. I dun blame ye, since yer father isn't aroun' t' tell ye these kinds o' things, but I must correct ye. Let's finish this like real men, 'n th' nearest pub, smashed."  
  
  


* * *

  
To my reviewers.  
Sirith- 'Course not.  
Dent Arthur Dent- Only James Bond can do that with a name and get away with it.  
FlameTigress- Yes, ma'am.  
PearlyGirl- Savvy.  
Nestrik- Thanks.  
Steph- ME LIKE TOO THAT'S WHY ME WRITE REVIEW MORE KAY.  
Everyone who, like me, cannot for some reason opporate the bloody review button- Thanks for reading.  



	3. An' get really, really drunk

  
  
    Jack directed Will to stand in the shadows next to the door and keep watch while he slipped around back to wake up the tavern keeper. After a few minutes and the sound of a scuffle, a very nervous looking old man opened the door, and held a lantern up to see Will better.  
    "Hello, Mr. Turner," the tavern keeper greeted stiffly, then backed away and allowed him in, closing the door behind him.  
    Jack stood just inside, grinning as always. "Beer or rum or whatever you keep here, mate. And as much as my friend an' I have t' drink b'fore we pass out."  
    Will followed Jack to the bar, unwilling to argue. He vaguely wondered what Jack had done to the tavern keeper to get him to cooperate, but remembered that after he regained the Black Pearl, he also had a whole island full of gold treasure at his disposal. He couldn't have wasted all of that in two years, could he?  
    The tavern keeper walked with a slight jingle.  
    Nope. He didn't waste it.  
    "Alright, Will," Jack told him, "Yer not allowed t' talk at all 'til ye've finished off atleast two mugs o' whatever the hell this is."  
    The tavernkeep set two mugs in front of both of them and wandered off to the back room, as Jack had ordered before.  
    Will stared at the mug, then carefully lifted it in both hands and stared at the contents. The smell was bitter, but inviting. He slowly lifted it to his lips and sipped it; he sputtered and coughed. "This is disgusting."  
    "Ye're not s'pposed t' sip it, ye're s'pposed t' swallow it. B'sides," Jack took a hearty gulp of his bad beer and added, "ye're not s'pposed t' talk yet."  
    "But-"  
    "Finish it."  
    Will sighed and braced himself, then tipped the mug back and swallowed as much of it as he could without tasting it. He set the mug back down, and blinked a little, feeling the alcohol warm his insides.  
    Jack finished his second and leaned against the counter, watching Will's reaction. "'S good?"  
    "...'s good," he agreed after a minute, hesitating before reaching for the second mug. He finished it in much the same way, then set it down next to the first one.  
    "An' how d'ya feel?" Jack asked, clapping the other man on the shoulder amiably.  
    Will looked up at him with some unreadably strange expression. "...Warm."  
    Jack frowned. That wasn't the usual reaction people had. Oh well. "Now, tell ol' Jack all 'bout it."  
  
    "Elizabeth... she seemed happy for a few months. We married, a small wedding in the church at the edge of town. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. I promised her I'd work hard to build a house for us; she said her dowry would be enough, and we could live in town, that it wouldn't bother her to live like a commoner. So I found a place near the shop, and she and I lived there together for awhile. She started seeming more and more restless, though, and I couldn't do anything to help. She'd find stupid things to fight with me with, and she used to yell. I knew she was unhappy, but she couldn't tell me why. I don't think she knew why. Then one day I came home and she told me she was pregnant, and everything was okay for a week afterwards. It seemed like everything was going to be alright. Then I came home one day, and... she was gone... I found a note. She just wrote, 'Will, I'm in love with the pirate I thought you were. But you're not. I can't live as normal women live. Goodbye.'"  
    Jack stared as Will spoke, watching as his slouch worsened and he stared at the counter, tears spilling over both eyes without shame. He watched as his friend shivered to the point he could no longer speak. Jack leaned over uncertainly and pulled his chair closer alongside Will's. He put a hand around Will's shoulders in a vague motion of comfort.  
    "She... I'm not good enough for her," Will cried out suddenly as Jack's arm touched him. His shoulders sagged as if even the arm were a burden. "Jack... she left... with my child... she left... I can't protect her if I don't know where she is."  
    "Shhhh," Jack hushed, for lack of anything else to say.  
    "I can't protect her or my child," he sobbed. "Jack... my..." he shuddered.  
    Jack pulled him into an awkward hug, Will burrying his face in Jack's shoulder. Jack stared, completely shocked, at the floor of the pub. He glanced up at the tavernkeep, who peered out at them from the back store room; Jack waved for him to bring more beer.  
    Will didn't cry around people. Even when Governor Swann and the entire town of Port Royale blamed him for Elizabeth running away, he didn't show his emotions at all to them. Which of course, only made them more angry. But for the past few months he began to feel even more like it was worthless, that nothing he did would ever be right again. And if nothing he did was ever right, why not just never do anything again? One last action. He'd lie in his loft, too tired to eat dinner, but too depressed to be tired, and stare at the ceiling. The darkness would close in around him, and he grew increasingly afraid that one day he wouldn't be tired enough to fall asleep before he acted on his emotions. A forge was a wonderful place to find a quick death.  
    Jack felt Will shudder again, sobbing muffled in his jacket. He awkwardly placed both arms around him and tried to be comforting. "It's a'right mate." Jack certainly wasn't used to being the voice of stability and sanity. He wanted to handle this the way he handled anyone who came to him with a problem- get them really smashed, then let them talk about it until they came up with their own solution. But he had a pretty good guess as to what solution Will would come up with, and he wasn't going to stand by and watch the son of Bootstrap take his own life.  
    "Jack... what do I do?" Will asked, not removing himself from the embrace.  
    "I dunno," he admitted. "If I were you, I'd give up on this hole o' a town an' come with me."  
    Will pulled away and stared at him for a moment.  
    Uncomfortable with the touchy-feely situation, Jack pushed a third mug toward him and took up his own. "'Ere."  
    Will downed the third mug more smoothly than the previous two, and sat in silence with Jack for awhile. He stopped shivering, and leaned against the counter slightly, not really concentrating on anything. "Go with you?" he mused after a moment. "And become a pirate."  
    "Will, I swear t' you, we will find Elizabeth," Jack said suddenly, not having heard Will mumbling to himself. He slammed his fourth empty mug down on the bar, and stood up, only as unstable as he always was. The alcohol, he knew, must've been affecting his mind...  
    Will looked up, startled but out-of-it.  
    "I will help you find Elizabeth, and if you still want her, I'm sure she'll have you back. And either way, I will help you find your child."  
    He brightened up considerably. "You will?"  
    "I will, Will," Jack slurred, then chuckled to himself. "Will, Will, hehheheheheh."  
    Will smiled, then chuckled, then the chuckling turned into giggling. "Heeheehee. Will. Heeheehee."  
    Jack helped his inebriated friend stand, and put some coins on the counter for the tavernkeep. Together, they swaggered back out into the street.  
    The blacksmith couldn't stop himself from giggling, and it seemed contagious. Frequently, Jack caught himself giggling, too, and had to remind them both to be quiet.  
    "Shhh!"  
    "Heeheeoh. yeah. Shhhhhhhhh..." Will would be quiet for a moment, then would snort and break out in giggles again over something stupid. "Hey, Jack?"  
    "Hm?"  
    "SSSSSSSHHHHHHH!!! Heeheeheeheehee!"  
    Normally, Jack would've had the presence of mind to roll his eyes, but at the moment he was distracted with watching their surroundings. Together they made it up the step and through the door of the shop. "Let's get your things, mate. Just th' essentials, an' let's get out of here."  
    Will nodded, and swaggered drunkenly towards the weapons, selecting a sword set apart from the rest. Even smashed, he handled the beautiful sabre with extreme care, sheathing it and looping a belt about it, then fastening the belt to his waist. He went to the ladder up to his loft and leaned on it, staring up. "Jack? There's no way I can get up there. Will you?"  
    Jack obliged, climbing less than agiley up the wooden ladder and into the loft. "What d' you need?"  
    "There's a lantern burning low to your right, set on the box. Turn it up for some light," Will directed, trying hard to concentrate through the haze of alcohol. "There's a small wooden box by my blankets, bring it. Only that."  
    "Will... you live here?" Jack asked quietly.  
    _Funny how his grammar is better when he's drunk,_ Will thought vaguely to himself, not hearing Jack's previous comment.  
    The pirate climbed down again and handed the box to Will. "Will, how long have you lived like this?"  
    Will wrinkled his eyebrows. "Like what?"  
    "M'ybe I'm just drunk," Jack shook his head, stauntering over to the collection of blades hung from everywhere. "Ye mind if I take one?" He asked, knowing he didn't have to, but pointing anyway.  
    "Not at all. Take whatever you like, since we're leaving for awhile..." Will trailed off, chosing instead to stare at the dirt floor.  
    The latch of the door lifted, and both men turned and drew swords, albeit a bit unsteadily.  
    "Thought I'd find you both here," AnnaMaria greeted sourly. "You drunk yet, Captain?"  
    Jack Sparrow belched loudly in reply.  
    AnnaMaria nodded and turned to Will, who was wavering on his feet. "Not you, too?"  
    Will grinned crookedly. "Afraid so." He sheathed his sabre, and in the process knocked himself off his feet to land unceremoniously on his rear. "Oops."  
    Jack rolled his eyes and swaggered around the wide selection of blades once again, stopping every once in awhile to examine something or swipe it and smoothly place it under his belt or in his boots. "So, what d'ya want?" he asked AnnaMaria. "Somethin' go wrong yet?"  
    "Dawn's two hours away. People start wakin' about now," she warned him.  
    "Oh," he stopped, gesturing vaguely to nothing, "then we should probably be on our way. Get up, Will."  
    "mmmmm no."  
    Jack turned to him. "What?"  
    "Can't," Will said simply.  
    Jack began cursing again. "We'll have to carry him."  
    "What?" AnnaMaria demanded.  
    "Well, we can't bloody well leave him here, now can we?" Jack snapped, irritably.  
    She knew he had some reason for bringing Will along, even if he wouldn't tell her about it. Equally irritated, she helped Jack hoist Will to his feet and together she and Jack acted as crutches.  
    "Wait, what about the donkey?" Will suddenly remembered the animal in the back gated area.  
    "I'm not carrying it, too," Jack told him.  
    "'F course not, but do I just leave him there? Will he be okay?"  
    Jack grumbled for a moment, staggering out the door with his friends. "I'm sure someone will notice if the extremely routine-oriented blacksmith leaves his ass out too long."  
    Will began to giggle again.  
    "SHH!" both pirates hushed him.  
    "Know what?" he mumbled before passing out. "I love you. You know that, right?"  
    AnnaMaria rolled her eyes. "Let's get back to the ship."  
  
  
    The longboat was somewhat harder to row with only two capable people aboard, but they made it to the Pearl and onboard, dragging the unconscious Will along with them. The rest of the crew, already aboard, squinted down at them in the grey of the not-yet-risen sun.  
    "What is it this time?" Gibbs laughed, happy now that his flask was again filled.  
    "Well, 'e was just so adorable, AnnaMaria insisted we keep him," Jack grinned lopsidedly, ducking and almost dropping Will when she tried to deck him.  
    Laughter. A warm pre-dawn wind swept the Black Pearl away from Port Royale long before the blazing golden dawn, and long before they were noticed.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Notes to reviewers!  
Carrie, EmeraldWolf- Yeah, not enough buddy fiction out there anymore. So go write some!  
Blondetennischick900, krenya-alenak, Abi920, Nestrik, Megs, FrannieGurl2006, megHan, MoroTheWolfGod, Beth, Princess dragonfly, Alaskantiger, LordLanceahlot, SaraK, ElvenRanger13, Mona Lisa, JeanieBeanie33, Tap Dancing Widow, Kid, A_M, Paige Darke, Vidalark- Thanks.  
Raeghann- Wow, thanks!  
Sigil- Duh. But the trouble isn't til later. Right now, we just get to laugh at Will for being an inept drunk.  
FleeingFaith- *snatches at bag of sugar!*  
Alexa, Lizz Sparrow- I know what you mean about longer chapters, but would you rather me write one short chapter a day or one long chapter every two days?  
Elf-Formerly-Known-As-Legolas- I read this -after- I wrote the chapter. Next chapter, I'll tone it down.  
  
    Well guys, I've got to go to college orientation, so I'll be gone until Saturday. I'll write in a notebook while I'm gone though, and have the alotted three chapters either late Friday night or on Saturday along with Saturday's chapter. Stay weird, kiddos. Remember, read all you can, and write somethin' back.  
    Sara W, *salute*!  
  
  



	4. Jack's Guilt

    Will Turner woke up with a splitting headache. For some reason, the ground was tilting first one way, then the next. It wasn't helping his nausea much. He sat up, then groaned and fell back again as the pounding of his head became too much to bear.  
    The door creeked open from the other side of the room. Muffled footsteps approached, then a familiar grinning face stared down at him. "How's your first hangover treatin' you, mate?"  
    He squinted. "Jack? Why is the ground moving? Where are..."  
    Jack cut off Will, laughing heartily. "You're on the Pearl!"  
    Will groaned again as he remembered the night before, then looked up at Jack, wrinkling both eyebrows. "You... _hugged_ me!"  
    Jack scowled merrily. "Techinically, you hugged me first. _And_ you loudly professed your love for both me and AnnaMaria."  
    He blanched visibly.  
    "We were both drunk," the pirate told him, stauntering into the center of the room, still no less stable than before.  
    Will nodded. "Very drunk." He sat up again, more slowly, to survey the captain's quarters of the Black Pearl. A huge wooden table stood proudly near the window, covered with maps. Across from him, there was a door, guarded on both sides by a rack of weapons, odds and ends, and suveniers from Jack's various travels. He could smell the salt sea smell, hear the sea gulls, and he knew there was a glorious wind outside. There will have been a golden dawn...  
    His eyes came to rest on the pirate regarding him with a grin. Jack wandered over to the maps.  
    Will remembered being forced over a box of gold pieces, his neck about to be slit. He could almost still smell Barbossa, the reek of death and rot upon the man. He could almost still see the enemy crew, standing all around him, waiting for his death, screaming literally for his blood. And he remembered Jack, shoving his way past increasingly shocked and silenced pirates, coming to his rescue. Under the guise of getting his ship back.  
    "We should be comin' upon the next port somewhere about this evening, which, since ye slept through most of the day, is in four or five hours. I suggest ye use the hours to wash up and gain your much lacking composure back. We'll search the shores for your woman- what are you laughing at? Do you really think it wise laughing at a pirate?"  
    Will was the one grinning this time. "You'll take me to my 'bonny lass?'"  
    Jack sneered at him good-naturedly. "Watch yourself, Turner..."  
    Will stiffled his laughing into a barely restrained tittering, then swallowed that. Just as he was about to apologise, he managed to throw himself into a coughing fit.  
    Jack's expression changed from the daylight of jest to the darkness of concern. He walked over and knelt beside his friend, placing a hand upon his chest and frowning more deeply. He removed his hand when Will gave him a quizical look, then gazed at Will a little sadly and sat next to him on the bed. "I'll have AnnaMaria bring you some hot tea," he promised, frettingly putting the blanket around Will and blinked at him for a moment, some strange, unreadable expression claiming his well-tanned features.  
    Will pulled the blankets tighter around him, feeling a little chilled. He paid less attention to that than he did to the strange change in Jack's behaviour. "...Jack?"  
    He shook his head slowly, then stood up and gave Will a grin. "You look after that hangover. You've got a wife to find. Meanwhile, I've got 'ta keep after those swine on the deck. I'll come an' get you when we get to St. Francis Port." And Jack walked away, allowing the door to slam behind him.  
    Will stared at the door for a moment, then eased himself back down onto the surprisingly comfortable cot. The ache of his head and the weariness in his bones took him, but before he dropped off to sleep, he wondered to himself,  
    _Why isn't Jack hung-over?_  
  


* * *

  
    The Black Pearl was a shadow in the dark. It glided over the ocean's surface, almost invisible in the lack of moonlight. The waves were slightly choppy, blown by the same quick wind that carried the Pearl to the port. They stowed the ship in the shadow of the cliffs, and again a set of longboats went out from the ship. Jack lent Will his long overcoat, being that it was darker than the beige shirt and bluish grey vest Will wore.  
    _You'll need this more than I will,_ Jack had told him. Will pondered this only distractedly as they rowed toward shore. _Jack seemed unusually persistant about the jacket, and about how I shouldn't row, that he and Gibbs should do it. Why is he suddenly being so protective? Maybe he thinks I'm incapable of being a 'pirate.' That must be it._  
    Will put his hand in the largest jacket pocket that he knew about, and held the picture frame of the small portrait of Elizabeth he took with him. _Elizabeth, I'm coming to rescue you. Please take me back._  
    The longboat pulled up to the dock, and Jack leapt to the boardwalk. He grinned ferally and offered Jack a hand to help pull Will up.  
    Will looked carefully at the proffered hand, and climbed up on his own.  
    Jack would've laughed had silence not been vital. Instead, his grin changed from feral to amused. "That's it, mate," he whispered to Jack, then gestured to Gibbs. Gibbs nodded and ducked down on the floor of the boat, and pulled himself under the dock. Around them, two other longboats did the same, one of them letting off AnnaMaria, the other staying full and stowed under the dock, in case of trouble.  
    The blacksmith followed his captain into town, followed by AnnaMaria.  
  
    The tavern was loud and crowded even at the late hour. Will and AnnaMaria stayed well back, following as Jack swaggered in and made himself at home in the corner booth.  
    Within half an hour, AnnaMaria had made herself scarce, and Will sat with Jack, who had picked up a full-figured woman of questionable morals. Will tried to ignore them as Jack pawwed the woman thoroughly and told her all the dirty things he wanted to do to her and the woman giggled. Finally, Jack suggested they find a room.  
    Will scowled and turned on them as if to berate Jack, but caught Jack's look just in time. It was familiar, that purposeful look Jack had shot to him in the cave. _Wait for the opportune moment._  
    "What about your young friend?" the woman inquired, looking him over measuringly.  
    "He just likes to watch," Jack grinned. "I'm sure we can put on one hell of a show for him, can't we Jesse?"  
    Her giggle proceded to a laugh, and she pulled him out of the booth, motioning for Will to follow. Begrudgingly, he did.  
    She led them around the building and down the street to the inn, where she led them around back to the room she already rented for such an occassion. She pulled Jack over to the bed by the front of his shirt, trusting Will to shut the door. Jack quickly took control of the situation, pushing her down on the bed before he straightened up and lost the giddy drunken grin.  
    "Don't worry, Jesse, you'll get paid for this, but it's not a bedwarmer I'm looking for."  
    Jesse was silenced, staring at them in surprise.  
    Jack paced the length of the small room, gazing down scarily at the whore. "We're looking for information, and if you tell anyone we've been here, you'll find yourself lacking something vital to your continued existance." Here, Jack drew a dagger from the back of his belt.  
    "Alright, alright, no need t' get violent," Jesse told him soothingly. "I'll tell you whatever you want, as long as I know it."  
    Jack motioned to Will.  
    Will took the small portrait from his pocket and took it to Jesse. "I'm looking for this woman. She is with child, though I do not know if it shows yet."  
    Jesse took the portrait and studied it carefully. "Yes! I know her, miss Elizabeth, she was here earlier this week."  
    "How was she?" he asked anxiously. "Was she well?"  
    "She was in good health, though she seemed a bit harried. I let her stay in this room when she was in town, and she was so nice. She left three days later on a boat for St. Vincent, said she was going to have her child, then find some pirates or something. I don't know why she'd want to go and do a thing like that."  
    "St. Vincent," Jack repeated, putting the dagger away. "Remember, woman, if you talk to anyone-"  
    "You'll cut out me heart, right?" she rolled her eyes. "I wasn't planning on talking, anyway. No worries."  
    Will took the small pouch of coins he had left and gave it to her. "This isn't much, but I want you to use it to find a better life. Apprentice yourself to a seamstress or something."  
    Jesse examined the contents of the bag and her eyes grew wide. "Thank you, mister, thank you very much! This is as much as I make in a week! God bless you, young sir!" She paused, then squinted at him. "Why did you ask about Miss Elizabeth, anyway?"  
    "She's my wife," he told her, bowing his head slightly. "She... she left me. But I want to talk to her, to make sure that she and our child will live well."  
    "That's so sweet. Say, if she still don't want you, then you come to me with your child, and I'll be your wife and raise your child." She winked at him.  
    Will blushed darkly, much to the amusement of the whore.  
    Jesse scooted closer to him. "Do I atleast get a kiss? You're a whole lot better lookin' than the smelly one over there."  
    Will laughed, and Jack acted offended.  
    "Well, if you're going to be that way about it," Jack scolded, "I guess it's too bad we're in such a hurry, I'd make you change your tone!"  
    The blacksmith started on his way out of the room, Jack following.  
    Jesse sighed at the closed door after they left. How come all the good, cute men were all either taken or pirates?  
  
  
    Jack and Will met with AnnaMaria at the docks. They waited as the three longboats emerged from under the docks, then boarded and rowed back to the ships.  
    The crew of the Pearl made quick work of tying up the boats, then set off for St. Vincent. Jack shoved Will below deck, telling him he didn't need anyone up on deck that wasn't necessary, then began barking orders like a field general.  
    Will was too happy about Elizabeth being well to be angered by not being allowed to help on deck. He examined the maps in the captain's quarters for hours before wandering over to the bed and flopping down. He noticed absently that someone had set food out on the smaller table at the head of the bed, but he was too tired to eat. Instead, he dropped off to sleep, dreaming of Elizabeth.  
  
    Jack peered in through a crack in the door at Will as he slept, listening as, every once in awhile, Will coughed fittishly and mumbled about Elizabeth. He felt some inescapable guilt gnawwing at his insides; he wasn't used to that feeling. He didn't like it. He knew he owed Bootstrap his life thrice and again, but here he was, watching as Bill's son suffered. He knew he had to find Elizabeth, not so much for Will's sake as to appease the demon that was eating him alive.  
  


* * *

  
And now, a word from our authour.  
    Sorry mates, college orientation was so much of a blast that I only typed one chapter. Louisiana Tech is awesome. Heaven on earth. Except, the dorm I stayed in was bright bloody purple with pink flowers. *shudder* Oh well. I can repaint when I get there. I'll write more, I promise.  
Klept0-maniac, you're right, I owe you three, but let me get this finished first. It won't be too much longer.  
  



	5. Swear

  
    Elizabeth was scared. She knew she would have to stop and have a place to have this child, or it would tear itself from her side. She was scared, and more than anything she wanted Will at her side.  
    It was dark, and the streets were crowded in Tortuga. She made it. When she left, she was planning on finding a nice family to leave her child with, then finding Jack and asking to go with him, just for a little while. She felt so confined, what with having a child and being a wife and needing to settle down. Before, she felt clausterphobic and terrified. Now, she was only terrified. She'd read about Tortuga in books and heard the sailors talk about it, and it was every inch what they said it would be.  
    Which was exactly the problem.  
    Tortuga wasn't a place for someone of her condition. Even the drunks acknowledged that she was to be left alone, but there was no one to offer help or a place to stay. She felt very much like Mary without her Joseph.  
    A woman in a bright red dress approached her, gently but firmly grabbing her by the elbow and leading her off the street. "How on earth did you end up here like you are?" she demanded.  
    "I don't know the city well," Elizabeth admitted, following as quickly as she could. "Do you have a place where--"  
    "Yes, of course," the woman told her. "Come on."  
    Elizabeth let herself be dragged, trying to keep up, until the woman in red brought her to a dimly lit but inviting house. Vaguely she noticed it was an inn, and a less than reputable one.  
    "Don't worry, dear, all the men here are only interested in other men, so no one will bother you," the woman told her. "I keep a room here because it's clean. You can stay as long as you need."  
    She nodded gratefully. "Ma'am... Do you know of a midwife...?"  
    "We don't have midwives in Tortuga, lass," she laughed shortly. "We only have each other. But I'll help you as much as I can. I delivered my younger brothers and sisters, all five of them. You just trust me."  
    "What's your name?" she asked, finding it hard to breath.  
    The woman shoved open the door of the room, and led Elizabeth to the bed. "My real name is Elizabeth Locke, but everyone knows me as Scarlet. Breath, honey. Help me get this dress off you. That's it. We all have false names, it helps business. Breath. Let me get some towels, this will be messy. Just remember, I'm looking after you."  
    Elizabeth watched her namesake hurry about the room, fetching towels and whatever else she could use. This... this is what would happen if she stayed in Tortuga...  
    "What's your name, young lady?"  
    "Also. Elizabeth." she panted. "Elizabeth. Turner."  
    "Ah, and where's Mr. Turner?" she asked, a slight bitter sneer edging her words.  
    "I ran away from him."  
    "He hit you, dearest?"  
    She shook her head. "No. I was scared, I felt- ah! Trapped. Being a housewife. Never being really. Free." Her pains forced her to concentrate on breathing more than speaking.  
    "Well, let me tell you lass- Push!- Freedom is a relative term. It's whatever you think it is. Remember to breath. Life is always gonna imprison you somehow or another. Breath."  
    Elizabeth breathed and pushed under Scarlet's direction. She knew what Scarlett was saying was right. Before, she thought life with Will Turner would be closer to freedom than life with Commodore Norrington. When she was married, she felt life on her own would be closer to freedom than life with Will. Seeing Scarlet, she knew life with a man she loved- not a man who simply paid her- was real freedom. And Will loved her, he loved her far more than she loved him. She knew now that running away was stupid, she could not have a better life than she did with Will.  
  
    Scarlet cleaned the little boy in the water basin near the door, then wrapped him in a blanket and brought him to Elizabeth.  
    "He's so tiny," Elizabeth marvelled, cradling him fondly.  
    "He's just the right size, Miss Elizabeth," Scarlet assured her, "And a beautiful child, too."  
    She gazed at him in exhaustion and adoration for a long time.  
    "What are you goin' to name him?" Scarlet prompted her.  
    "William. William Turner. After his father."  
  
  
    Jack peered in through the door of the cabin again, watching Will almost sadly. The guilt demon was gone, replaced by real, true grief and anxiety. Will hadn't eaten in days, all he did was stare at that portrait and out at the sea, then back at the portrait. He barely spoke. He slept only when Jack was up on deck, even though Jack freely offered use of the cot and slept in the chair even if Will wouldn't sleep in the cot. He would only stare at the portrait, and cough. That deep, liquid cough that claimed Jack's sisters and brother while they were very young. The fever that followed which claimed his mother. The chills that he saw shaking the young man before him.  
    He shuddered despite himself. _Bootstrap, your son is comin' to join ye._ Before, Jack felt he owed Bill for what he had done for him when he was still younger. Years ago, Bill found him in an alley and adopted him, and together they stole the first ship of what was to become many. Finally they pilfered enough to get a shipwright to build the fastest, best-armed ship in the entire ocean. For effect, Bill encouraged Jack to invest in black sails, an investment that paid off time and again for intimidation. Bill followed him loyally when Jack was still green as captains go, even when he made mistakes that cost them an entire ship's worth of loot. Bill was his friend. When the mutiny happened, Bill did what was right by him, then amended and did what was right by them both. Jack blamed himself.  
    Ever since he heard of Bootstrap's death, he believed he would never again have a friend as good as Bill had been. He knew that anyone he told of himself, anyone he gave his secrets to, would just as soon sell his words, be too stupid to understand, or too self-interested to care. He would never again have a real friend, as few and far between as good friends were. But... he hated to admit it, but he was fond of Will. Will was like the little brother he said goodbye to. Will was... his friend. Even though he told himself every time he met someone that friendship was a joke, he knew Will was truly his friend, as Bill had been his friend. Or maybe as he had been Bill's friend? Was this how Bill felt toward him?  
    Lying on the cot, half-dreaming, Will coughed and shivered again.  
    Will was his friend. And now his friend needed him.  
    Jack pushed open the door and strode right over to Will, shaking him gently to wake him completely. "We're here, mate."  
    The blacksmith stirred slightly, then sat up and clutched the blanket around him. "Where's 'here' this time?"  
    "Tortuga. It's the last place she could've gotten to without going back to England." Jack took off his long overcoat and draped it around Will, his tone softer. "If ye like, I'll search here and bring her back to you."  
    Will frowned and stood up, dropping the blanket and slipping his arms through the jacket. It was a little too big, and the lace scratched at his wrists, but the warmth was appreciated. "You don't have to shelter me like you have been, Jack. You don't have to be protective, I can handle myself. You know that." And he promptly upset himself right into a coughing fit.  
    Jack watched, expression dark, as Will brought his hand away from his mouth to reveal blood. "Will, stay here. Don't do anything stupid. You're ill. I'm not sheltering ye, I'm trying to keep you alive," his tone became plaintive. "Please stay here. Eat something. Rest. I'll bring her back to you, I swear Will."  
    Will was taken by surprise. Jack... Captain Jack Sparrow... Was _begging_ him to stay and look after himself. He sank back down onto the bed, staring up at him in unabashed shock.  
    "Please don't die," Jack begged.  
    Will simply stared, amazed. "No. No, I won't."  
    Jack put his palms together in his traditional gesture of thanks, then turned and hurried away without most of his usual swagger.  
    He stared at the closed door, then held the overcoat around him tighter, feeling Jack's left-over warmth. He was, for the first time in all the past months of searching, absolutely sure he would see Elizabeth again. He took Jack's suggestion to rest, and lay back down on the cot. He dozed off feeling, for the first time in many weeks, warmer than before.  
  
    Jack stepped out on deck and things began happening. "Cotton's Parrot, Cotton, AnnaMaria, and Gibbs, ye're with me, get off the ship and start looking NOW. Cotton to the east side taverns, AnnaMaria, the docks, Gibbs, north side inns. I've got the red light district-"  
    AnnaMaria snorted.  
    "-And no goofin' off, the lot of you. Meet back here if you find anythin'." Jack snatched his hat from where he'd left it, hanging on one of the pegs of the tiller. "The rest of you are on watch. No shore leave until we find Elizabeth!"  
    A general shout of disgruntled compliance followed him off the ship and down the pier.  
  
    Crowds parted for Captain Jack Sparrow. His walk and glare told anyone on the streets that he was there for business, not pleasure. The whores, who usually followed him like puppies, backed away and stared in awe. Well, except for the one he cornered.  
    "I need to know if you've seen a young woman like this," he asked the almost terrified woman. He held out the small portrait to her. "She'd either be with child or close af'er it."  
    The woman stared at him, then at the portrait, then back at him. She rallied all her courage behind her, which amounted to a trembling, "Why d'ya want to know?"  
    Jack took her by the neck and held the portrait closer to her. "She's the wife of my friend, an' she may be in life-threatening danger. Mind takin' a closer look this time?"  
    She nearly wet herself, but kept enough of her faculties to look at the picture, then back at him, and nod. "Yeah, I know her. That's Elizabeth Turner."  
    "Where is she?"  
    "She's staying with Scarlet at the poofs' inn just 'round the corner."  
    "Take me there," he ordered, releasing her neck and grabbing her elbow.  
    She hesitated.  
    "Hurry," he prompted.  
  
    Jack Sparrow flung open the door of the room without knocking. He didn't care that his reputation was in serious peril, being seen at the place he was. He strode into the room, devoid of his swagger, and promptly regretted making so much noise.  
    The dismayed cry of a child met his ears, and he immediately felt guilty for hearing it before Will.  
    "Jack!" both Scarlett and Elizabeth exclaimed at once.  
    "Is the baby okay?" he asked, voice a low growl. He had to physically restrain himself from just picking up the baby and taking it back to Will, leaving Elizabeth there to fend for herself.  
    "The baby is fine," Elizabeth told him, turning to him from her task of mending Scarlet's red dress. Her last John ripped it in an inopportune place, and luckily Elizabeth knew how to sew. "Jack, I knew you'd be in town eventually, but I thought I'd have to look for you."  
    "That's real funny, lass, 'cause I've been looking for you for a couple of months." He turned to the other woman present and nodded curtly. "Scarlet."  
    She half-curtseyed, eying him wearily. "Jack."  
    "Jack, I need to get back to Will," she told him, finishing off her sewing job quickly and handing it to Scarlet.  
    "I know," he told her. "Will is waiting for ye. Hurry and get your things together, the Pearl is in port."  
    Elizabeth went to the bed, where little Will was lying, finished fussing and drifting off to sleep again. She carefully scooped him up and wrapped him in a blanket, then turned to Scarlet. "Scarlet, I owe you a lot."  
    "Don't mention it, I didn't know ye was a friend of Jack's," she said, glaring at Jack suspiciously.  
    "She's the wife of a friend, love," Jack told her, tipping his head characteristically. "Don' take it personal."  
    "Here," Elizabeth held out her own small purse, forcing it into Scarlet's hands. "You've done a lot for me. I want you to take this, and do what you can. Get to Port Royale, and I'll help you build a better life than this," she told her.  
    Scarlett looked down at the small purse, then up at Elizabeth. "This is too much, miss, I can't-"  
    Jack gestured in wild impatience, reminding them of a child who needed to relieve himself.  
    "Take it," Elizabeth ordered, smiling. She turned and followed Jack out.  
  
  
    Thanks to everybody! I've given up putting all your names here. And no, Will doesn't have tuberculosis, but close. See you next chapter, mates, same pirate time, same pirate channel...  
  
Fanfic Writers Advice #1: If you want to stay in character, put images of the characters' eyes all over your desktop while you write. It's hard to write out of character when they're staring right back at you.  
  



	6. Anything or Like Hell

  
    Elizabeth got the distinct feeling something was terribly wrong. For one thing, Jack was leading her at an unusually fast pace, and he walked without his characteristic swagger, without his hands drawn up and his arms moving in circles. For the second, he had her by the elbow tightly and stared down anyone who dared to even look at her.  
    AnnaMaria met them on the way to the docks. "You found her!" she exclaimed, glancing at the child, then glaring at the mother shortly before taking up a clearly defensive place, walking at Elizabeth's other side. They were spotted and joined by Cotton and Gibbs on the way back, who flanked and backed Jack and Elizabeth. They marched her up to the Black Pearl, much to the joy of the crew.  
    "Ye found her!" the bald midget exclaimed. "Does this mean we're on leave, Captain?"  
    Jack pushed past him, Elizabeth still in tow.  
    "All of ye dogs are on leave," AnnaMaria announced loudly. "Get off th' ship!"  
    Pirates rushed by behind them as Jack led Elizabeth belowdecks, to his quarters. He put a finger to her lips, motioning for silence, and led her to the perpetually cracked door. He pointed, anger still evident.  
    Elizabeth peered in at the scene, compliant with Jack's wish for silence.  
    Will sat upon the cot, surveying the food set out for him on the end table. He reached for something, but his hand stopped midway and dropped back to his side. He frowned, and reached under the bed for the small wooden box he requested Jack bring. Will took a small key from the pocket of his breeches, and undid the small clasp. He carefully openned it, then sat staring at the contents for a long moment. His rough hand retrieved an item from the box and held it delicately, as if Will feared it would break. A familiar lock of golden and dark hair. Strange pain stabbed first through Will's heart, then through his lungs, and quickly he doubled over, dropping the lock of hair and clamping his hand over his mouth.  
    Jack gave Elizabeth a harsh look, then shoved past her and entered the room. Silently, he knelt in front of Will, retrieving the dropped lock of hair, and placing his other hand on his friend's shoulder.  
    Will remained doubled over for a moment after the coughing fit ended. He made direct eye contact with Jack, not yet seeing his wife in the doorway.  
    Jack put the lock of hair in Will's hand. _Anything you ever need._  
    Will stared at the lock of hair, then closed his eyes and shivered more from the cold in his heart than from physical chills.  
    Reflexively, Jack caught Will in an embrace. _Anything._  
    Elizabeth crept in, afraid to interupt what she understood clearly to be a moment between men. "Will?" she almost whispered, afraid to startle him too much. He seemed so fragile...  
    Will pulled away from Jack and slowly looked up at Elizabeth. He stared for a moment in emotionless shock, then an incredulous smile lifted his face. He stood up- a little to quickly- and almost crumpled to the floor, but for Jack standing to catch him.  
    "Easy, mate," Jack murmured, setting Will back on the cot. He turned to Elizabeth, who stood with a sort of mistified grief plastered over her features. "Well, get over here, woman."  
    Elizabeth went to sit next to Will, speechless, afraid he was angry with her.  
    Will brushed her cheek lightly with his fingertips, smiling gently. He looked down at the little child in her arms, and tears spilled over from both eyes. "He... he's so... perfect..."  
    She very carefully placed her son in his father's arms, watching happily as Will cradled him and simply gazed blissfully at him. It was so peaceful, watching them.  
    "What's his name?" Will asked.  
    "William," she replied simply, catching her husband's eyes in her own. "After his incredibly dedicated and... forgiving... father?" The last part of the sentence came out as a question. "Will, please forgive me. I felt so trapped, but I understand now. I thought I wanted freedom, but I never felt freer than when I was with you. Please don't hate me."  
    "Never!" he swore, grasping her hand in one of his. Together, they very gently embraced around their child. "Come home with me."  
    "Of course."  
    A small smile began to creep across Jack Sparrow's features. _Now _that's_ what I call a happy ending. I hope they don't kiss, it's way too early in the day for that sort of thing..._  
    As they embraced, another stab of pain interrupted and forced Will to remember his lungs. He quickly passed William the Third to Elizabeth, and clutched his sides, shaking violently with the coughs.  
    Jack's expression darkened quickly. "There's a doctor in Tortuga that owes me his life," he mentioned, more to himself than to Will or Elizabeth. "'Liz, stay here with him. I'll bring the doctor here." He started towards the door, but spun around on his heals. "'Liz, keep him warm. Steal blankets from where'er you can find them on th' ship. That tea on the table there is still hot, see if you can't force any down his throat." He gestured vaguely at them, then grimaced and left as quickly as he could.  
    _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he berated himself as he dashed again down the streets of Tortuga. _D'jyou think if you brought Elizabeth back he would just magically be better? Pah? Jus' like that? Stupid, stupid, stupid._ He pushed past members of his own crew without realizing it, before AnnaMaria joined him in his run.  
    "I've already sent the doctor," she told him, smirk raising the corners of her mouth. "Go on back to the ship, he might beat you there."  
    Jack spun on his heels comically, and began running in the other direction, followed by AnnaMaria's laughter.  
  
    The doctor, a surprizingly young man with no beard or mustache, waved to the on-watch Gibbs, who just stared. He mumbled something to himself and took a swig out of his flask.  
    The young man showwed himself to the captain's quarters as if he'd been aboard the ship before. He knocked lightly on the door, then pushed it open. "Good day," he greeted politely. "I'm looking for a Mr. Turner?"  
    Elizabeth looked the doctor over measuringly.  
    "AnnaMaria sent me," he told her, bowing slightly and removing his hat.  
    "Alright then," she allowed. "Come in, Mr...?"  
    The doctor went to kneel beside Will, setting a small black bag on the end table and surveying Will. "Doctor, actually. Doctor Christopher Edwards."  
    Will gazed up at the newcomer, too tired to greet him.  
    "Well, Mr. Turner, you've got yourself in a fine spot," Christopher told him.  
    Behind him, the door swung open again, and Jack slid to a halt, then tried a little too late not to call attention to himself.  
    Elizabeth rolled her eyes.  
    Jack gave her a slight apologetic smile.  
    "Hello, Captain," Christopher chuckled, setting a cool hand on Will's forehead. "Well, the good news is, Mr. Turner, that you don't have the consumption."  
    Jack and Elizabeth sighed in relief. Will cracked a smile.  
    "The bad news," he continued, "is that you have pnemonia."  
    Elizabeth tipped her head to the side slightly, picking up Jack's mannerisms without intending to. "What's the difference?"  
    "For one thing, the consumption is incurable and always deadly. Pnemonia is curable, and it's only deadly most of the time."  
    Mrs. Turner's eyes grew wide and she made a small noise of distress.  
    Jack stood to the side and watched Will closely.  
    "Miss Turner, Captain, I need two candles, some matches, a glass, a basin of clean water, and two clean cloths of any sort." Christopher made his list, then turned back to Will. "Mr. Turner, I know you feel bad, but we're going to try and get your lungs a little more clear. Then, you have to eat something. I know you don't want to, but if you don't atleast start recovering soon, then I fear you shall get the white plague after all."  
    Behind him, Jack directed Elizabeth to the large wooden cabinet bolted to the wall, tossing a key to her. "There's candles and whatnot in there. I'll flich us some water."  
    Elizabeth fumbled with the lock as if the few seconds would save or lose Will's life. The lock clicked, and she openned the cabinet. Supplies for a very nice dinner set-up stood in the cabinet, mocking her. She had scene these before. Here was the knife she drove into Barbossa's chest... She shuddered and took out two napkins, two candles, and a clear glass. She brought them back to Christopher, who set them out on the end table.  
    "Alright, Will, we're goin' to sit up now," Christopher told him. "Are you ready?"  
    Will nodded; with the doctor's help, he propped himself up against the wall.  
    "Now, what I'm gon' t' have to do is put a candle upon your chest, then place the glass over it. It's going to burn, but the heat will go straight to your lungs, and hopefully dry them out. I'll have your lady friend hold the napkin for you to cough into. When you cough something up, spit it out, don't swallow it. That stuff isn't good for you." He turned to Elizabeth. "Have you the stomach for it, lass?"  
    Elizabeth gave him a good-hearted but extremely nervous half-smile, and knelt beside the cot, holding the napkin.  
    "We'll need to get that shirt off of you, or it will catch fire, and although I'm sure that's a wonderful way to dry your lungs out, it still won't do much for your health, savvy?"  
    _Savvy? That's Jack's word. He's not allowed to use Jack's word._ Will nodded, and accepted Christopher's help with the buttons; with help by the same, he reclined again on the cot.  
    Christopher lit a candle, and set it against Will's chest. He put the glass over it, and held it while it heated up.  
    Will felt the warmth from the candle sink into his chest, but it didn't seem to dry out his lungs. In fact, it seemed to do just the opposite, stirring up the thick liquid and causing him to cough violently. He turned his head and spat into the napkin Elizabeth held for him.  
    "Attaboy, Will," Jack told him, moving from the door to the doctor as quickly as he could without spilling the basin of water he brought with him.  
    The doctor tossed the other cloth napkin into the basin of water, trusting Jack to know what to do.  
    Jack soaked the cloth and wrung it out, then folded it and placed it on Will's forehead.  
    The candle suffocated in its own smoke. Christopher removed the glass, relit the candle, then replaced the glass.  
    For three hours they sat, repeating the process, until Will was too exhausted to continue.  
    Elizabeth sat next to him, taking over Jack's job of mopping Will's forehead.  
    Jack and Christopher Edwards went on deck to speak privately, the later taking his hat and bag with him.  
    "How've you been, Jack?" Christopher asked conversationally, looking out over the town.  
    Jack chuckled hostiley and shook his head. "I've b'n busy. How about ye, Chris? Still not dead?"  
    "No, still not dead. You know I'll be around forever."  
    "Still havn't figured out how ye do it. I haven't seen you since you killed my father, and you still haven't aged a bit."  
    "Are you still on about that, Jack?" Chris rolled his eyes. "I was doing you a favour, and I'm still trying to repay you for it. Now how does that work?"  
    Jack growled at him darkly. "It was a family problem. He was still my father."  
    "Even if he beat your mother right in front of you, beat your sisters and brother, beat you? Jack, that's not a father."  
    "It wasn't ye're place to say!" Jack roared. He paced down the deck, hand on the hilt of his sabre. "I could kill you now, and I wouldn't have a spot on me conscience for it!"  
    Chris shook his head. "Now Jack... Don't do anything stupid."  
    He paced over to Chris and spat on his shoe. "Get off my ship."  
    "That's a fine thank-you for saving young Mr. Turner's life," Chris drawled, then placed his hat on his head and nodded slightly. "Good day, Jack Sparrow."  
    "That's CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow," Jack shouted after him. He paced around the ship awhile before realizing Gibbs was still on watch. He strode over to the shocked looking man and growled in his face. "Not a word, Gibbs. Take this to your grave, or I swear I'll-"  
    Gibbs nodded, then hiccuped.  
    _Drunk. Wonderful!_ Jack would've done a little dance, if he weren't so busy trying to look intimidating. _He'll just turn it into another story for the tavern._  
    "T' th' grave, Capt'in," Gibbs gibbered, eyes wide.  
    Jack released him and swaggered back belowdecks to find some rum.  
  
    Elizabeth fell asleep, leaning against the cot where her love slumbered also. The youngest Turner fussed a little before settling down for sleep, as well. When Jack checked in on them on his way to the hold, the scene struck him as incredibly peaceful. It almost made him wish he'd settle down, find himself a wife... _Ha. Like hell, it does!_ He went on down to the hold to get smashed by himself.  
  
  


* * *

  
    No, I couldn't give him Tuberculosis. I'm not that cruel. Although it would be great to write an angsty sequel where Elizabeth blames herself for Will's death and spends all her time spoiling William the Third, only for him to run away and get several tattoos and piercings and join a motorcycle gang... okay, got carried away. Anywho, stay tuned, there's one more chapter to go.  
    Shut up, Klept0. I'm working on it.  
  



	7. Epilogue: Jack out of Character!

  
  
_Epilogue  
    
__Drink up, me hearties, yo-_ Jack Sparrow squinted up at the empty bottle of what used to be rum, which he had tipped upside down in an effort to get the very last drop. _Well, don' that jus' beat all... Bloody empty. Th' should make th' damn bottles bigger._ He was slumped against the wall in a corner, not really caring how uncomfortable he was. The excessive stress of the last few months took a lot out of him in the way of spunk, but he was sure that would come back with time.  
    _Gon' t' take Will and 'Liz home ag'in... Whoops..._ he dropped the empty bottle, and watched it roll across the floor towards the door. _Hrmph. Fine. Ah ne'er liked ye, anyway!_ he forced himself to his feet, then instinctually supported himself on the wall with one hand, even though he wasn't actually that drunk yet. _Gon' t' take Will and 'Liz home t'morrow. Dammit. E'rybody leavin' ag'in._ He stumbled down the hall and up to the cabin level deck, not really planning on anything, just needing to walk.  
    "Mr. Sparrow?" Elizabeth called to him quietly from the door to his cabin.  
    "Yeah?" he replied, just a little too loud.  
    "Can you watch after him for awhile? Oh, you're drunk." The tone of the last part oozed with disdain.  
    "Not really, love," he told her, standing straight and taking three steps without the help of the wall, then touching his nose. "See? A, B, C, D, E, F, oh who'm I kidding, I don't know the alphabet." He winked.  
    She smiled and inclined her head toward the cabin. "Can you watch after Will and the baby for a few minutes?"  
    "'Ave t' relieve yerself, dontchoo," he drawled, wanting to embaress her.  
    "As a matter of fact, yes, and if you don't hurry, I'll relieve myself on the floor of your cabin and you'll have to endure the smell of urine for the rest of your travels," she threatened.  
    Jack's eyes widened, and he hurried over to the room. Elizabeth either lost or regained her sense of humour- he really couldn't tell.  
    "Thank you," she smirked, walking off in the other direction.  
    _'S a ship, wha's she gon' t' do, piss off the side?_ He chuckled at the thought before going into his cabin.  
    Will lay in his exhausted slumber, unchanged from hours before. Jack swaggered over to the armchair-turned-craddle and peered at the little child.  
    _So little... Mrf, an' it stinks, too. Oh well. I love ye, 'Liz, but I'm not gon' t' change diapers._ He nudged the child a little to make sure it was still breathing- it was, and gave him a disgruntled fuss in reply. _Already startin' t' sound like yer mum, kid._ He swaggered over to the cot, collapsing next to it, unceremoniously, on his bum.  
    Will stirred, then openned his eyes and peered at the pirate. "...Jack?"  
    "Hello!" he greeted drunkenly.  
    A smile of amusement crept across the blacksmith's face. "You're drunk."  
    Jack nodded in agreement. "V'ry drunk." He began to chuckle that chuckle that promised to become a giggle. "I'm r'minded o' when ye were drunk off yer bum, an' ye were professin' yer love fer me an' AnnaMaria 'n the middle o' town-"  
    "No one was around," Will smiled.  
    He finished his chuckle with a half grin. A long, comfortable pause passed between them, then Jack started to collect himself to stand.  
    Will caught the sleeve of his shirt and convinced him to stay put by tugging him off balance. "I'm reminded of what the most fiercesome pirate in the Caribbean told me once, when he wasn't being so fiercesome."  
    "Oh yeah, an' what was that?"  
    "He told me there's only one thing a real man does when something bothers him, and that's to bottle it up until it makes you feel sick, then go and get really, really drunk. So drunk, you want to talk about it. Then you sit with your best friend, and you tell him everything."  
    Jack saw it coming and tried to change the subject. "Well, tha's not _exactly_ what I said."  
    "Jack, why did you help me?"  
    He turned as if offended. "Will, ye're me mate! I would do anythin' ye needed me t' do, ye know that."  
    "You're about as neutral as it gets, Jack," he said darkly. "Or, atleast, you want everyone else to think so. You're a pirate. You're not supposed to have any friends."  
    "Then I'm a reaaaaalllly bad pirate," Jack admitted, "'cause I've had two."  
    Will kept his hold on Jack's sleeve. "Oh really?"  
    "Yeah. You, an' your father."  
    The blacksmith stared right into Jack's eyes, trying to read his expression. Complete honesty.  
    _Yeah, I know, doesn' happen v'ry often,_ Jack amended to the voice in his head. _Won' make a habit of it._  
    "Why were you so worried about my cough?" Will pried shamelessly. "You knew it was a problem even before I did. You were protective of me." He expected a drunken reaction involving wild, violent gestures and cursing in some oriental language he'd never heard before.  
    He was disappointed. Jack forced himself to his feet and removed Will's grasp on his sleeve, then unexpectedly bent down, picked up Will, and sat on the cot, putting Will in his arms and completely at his mercy. He leaned back against the wall and craddled the fully-grown man. "Will, he lamented drunkenly. "I'm a c'mplete sap."  
    Will held very still, not entirely sure why he was being held. It was definitely weird.  
    "Will, I... my family was c'mpletely normal for Tortuga. My father di'n have a job, an' he spent wha'ev'r money he got on liquer and women other than my mother. I had three siblings, all of 'em younger, I had t' look out for them, but I couldn't do anythin' when my father came home drunk. He'd beat my mother an' my sibl'ngs an' me. He was so much bigger th'n I was, I was a runt fer my age. Then Christopher..."  
    He tilted his head back to look up at Jack. "Christopher, the doctor that was in here before?"  
    "Aye. That one. Christopher jus' walked into our house, an' told my father that 'e was sick o' hearin' th' sounds o' women an' children bein' beat. He lived next door o'er at th' time, an' the walls were thin. My dad, he jus' raged an' went t' hit him, but Christopher drew 'is sabre an' stuck 'im in the heart, jus' like that. Dad didn' have a chance."  
    Will went back to staring at the opposite wall to avoid smelling the rum on Jack's breath. "Just like that? He saved your mother and your siblings from being beaten."  
    "Dam'it, no," Jack cried with a strangled tone that would've been a roar if he hadn't brooded on the subject for years before. "He killed my father, Will." It took a moment for him to go on.  
    From his place, he could hear Jack's heart beat a little faster in anger and pain.  
    "A boy don' get anywhere without a father. I tried little jobs aroun' town, sweepin' floors for pennies and fixin' carts, an' finally begging, but it wasn' enough. I signed myself up on a smuggler's ship, helping the rum runners. I was gone for three months, an' when I came back... My sisters an' lil brother were sick. Th' doctor says t' me, "They have the consumption sickness. Don' go near them." I told him to get out of my house. They wanted to take them away and lock them in a san'tarium, said they weren't clean. Said I'd get sick. I didn' care, I wanted to die. I tried to take care o' 'em, but..." Jack's voice cracked, and Will noticed that his hold had become significantly tighter. "...they died," he finished simply. "Mom got it af'er 'em, and th' fever got her b'fore th' cough did."  
    Will tipped his head back to look up at Jack again.  
    Jack didn't make eye contact; he just stared into nowhere. His eyes had that shine that told of unshed tears, but the tears stayed unshed. Until he closed his eyes and leaned over a little, holding Will in the same manner as before. "I thought it would take ye, too. An' I hated it. An' I... I hated you too, Will. I hated you fer bein' a good friend, fer makin' me care. Fer bein' like Bootstrap. An' then I felt guilty fer hating you, an' fer not finding Elizabeth quicker. I wanted t' bring her back t' you, so you could be happy, an' maybe you would eat something an' rest long enough fer the illness to go away." Jack craddled Will protectively.  
    "Jack, my illness is not your fault," Will told him. Then he realized that wasn't what it was about. "None of it was your fault. Not your sisters. Not your brothers. Not your mother or your father. And not Bootstrap." Now Will felt tears on his scalp, where Jack buried his face in his hair.  
    "It doesn't matter if 't was my fault or not," he mourned softly. "They're dead. An' Bill... He died fer me..."  
    Will attempted to be comforting, but was just as awkward at it as Jack had been. "Shhh. Of course he died for you. He died for you just like you would've died for him. Just like I would die for you, or you, me. It's just how things played out."  
    "He's dead," Jack insisted. "Jus' like you would've been if I wasn't faster. I was fast enough this time."  
    _What do I need to say..._ "You're right. I would've been dead. I... Thank you, Jack."  
    Jack released a sigh to end all sighs. "No thanks required, mate." He loosened his hold on Will and stood, then set Will back on the cot and dusted himself off, straightening his vest and shirt and wiping all traces of tears from his eyes.  
    It was Will's turn to force himself to his feet. He took an unsteady step towards Jack, then tugged at the back of his friend's sleeve. When Jack turned, Will openned his arms in offer of an embrace. Half of him feared Jack would mock him, but after the last display of emotion, he could only wonder.  
    Jack studied him for a moment, afraid that it was some sort of mockery, but found no trace of malice behind Will's open expression. He slowly sank into the offered embrace.  
    Many moments passed, then the pirate began to shake slightly.  
    "Thank you, Will," he murmured almost emotionlessly. "Thank you so much. Thank you fer living. Thank you fer bein' a friend. Thank you fer bein' a good man. Thank you fer... not dyin'..."  
    Will knew living and not dying were two entirely different meanings.  
    Footsteps approached from above decks.  
    "Yer girl is comin'," Jack noted, pulling away.  
    "She'll understand," Will assured, accepting his help back to the cot and reclining by himself.  
    Elizabeth pushed the door open to regard them without surprize. She knew to expect anything. "Honestly, Jack, I leave you alone for five minutes and you manage to wake up my peacefully slumbering husband!" She feigned disapproval.  
    "I 'ave an announcem'nt t' make!" Jack declared just loud enough to be loud, but quiet enough not to wake the baby. "Will 'as jus' agreed t' be my firs' mate an' stay aboard th' Pearl fer ev'r-an'-ev'r-an'-ev'r!"  
    She feigned shock, putting her hands on her hips. "Jack Sparrow, are you _serious_?"  
    "'f COURSE I'm serious! S'riously inebriated," he replied, swaggering over and drawing his hands up in the customary manner. "Elizabeth my dear, I am going to go get e'en drunker than I already am. You stay here, an' make sure he-" here he gestured at Will, "-doesn't do anything stupid." He flashed a toothy grin at them both and retrieved his hat from the peg next to the door. He swept it in an odd gesture that seemed something like a salute, then winked to them both. "Ta!"  
    Elizabeth turned back to Will and tipped her head to the side in curiousity.  
    Will just grinned.  
    Jack Sparrow swaggered off the ship and into the town, a weight seemingly lifted off his shoulders. He even sang to himself quietly. _Dun dun duh duh dun duh dun dun dun dun dah._ "And really bad eggs..."  
  
_Fini_  
  
Or is it. I've got such a great present for all my reviewers, but I'm going to wait for a couple days to type it. I think I'm getting Carpal Tunnel. When I rotate my left wrist, it sounds like a cement grinder.  
    So don't touch that wheel, we'll be back next week! Same Pirate time, same Pirate channel!  
  



	8. Remember Me, but Ah! forget my fate Alt ...

  


Alternate Ending!

  
  
    Jack gave Elizabeth a harsh look, then shoved past her and entered the room. Silently, he knelt in front of Will, retrieving the dropped lock of hair, and placing his other hand on his friend's shoulder.  
     Will remained doubled over for a moment after the coughing fit ended. He made direct eye contact with Jack, not yet seeing his wife in the doorway.  
    Jack put the lock of hair in Will's hand._ Anything you ever need._  
     Will stared at the lock of hair, then closed his eyes and shivered more from the cold in his heart than from physical chills.  
    Reflexively, Jack caught Will in an embrace. _Anything._   
    Elizabeth crept in, afraid to interupt what she understood clearly to be a moment between men. "Will?" she almost whispered, afraid to startle him too much. He seemed so fragile...  
    She saw it before she heard him. Jack began to shake almost convulsively. A heart-breaking sobbing reached her ears.  
    "Jack, what-"  
    "No!" Jack cried into Will's shoulder. "No, 's not right, you can't go, Will, you can't go!"  
    "Go where-?" Elizabeth wondered, but she understood in the same moment Jack began screaming.  
    "He's dead! He's dead, Elizabeth! It's your fault, you bitch! Why'd ye have to leave him, why'd he have to love you so much, why couldn't I find ye faster, why didn' he listen to me an' take care of himself and leave things to me, why dammit!" Reverently, but with hands shaking from anger and grief, he lay Will's body back on the cot. He picked up the lock of hair that had once again dropped to the floor, then stood and turned on Elizabeth, throwing the lock of hair at her. "You... he..." Jack shook with barely-controlled anger, taking several steps toward her aggressively.  
    Elizabeth backed away with a cry of fear, and the child shrieked along with her.  
    At the child's cry, Jack stopped cold in his steps. He gazed at the child for a long moment, expression wavering, until finally the pain in his soul took over the anger in his heart. He turned away and went shakily back to Will's side, hovering protectively like a lion over the corpse of a pride member. "I..."  
    Silently, Elizabeth joined him at her husband's side. "Will, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I was such a fool. I was scared, but then I wanted you to take me back. I wanted you to forgive me. I'm so sorry. Our son... Your son, I hope he turns out nothing like me. I will take care of your son. He's so beautiful and perfect. Please look over us, Will, from where you are now."  
    Jack pulled a blanket over William, then stared up at her, eyes black but glowing like embers. "I'll take you back to Port Royale. We'll give Will a pirate's funeral. You go back to yer daddy. You tell that child that his father was a pirate and a good man."  
    Elizabeth closed her eyes and nodded, tears washing silently down both cheeks. "This is my fault."  
    "Get over it," Jack growled, storming past her toward the deck.  
  
    "Once the crew gets back we're leaving for Port Royale," Jack announced to Gibbs, who was sitting on deck and attempting to get drunk. "Put th' grog away, Gibbs, or ye'll be watchin' the corpse AND Elizabeth."  
    "The corpse?" Gibbs wrinkled his eyebrows.  
    Jack walked past him, to the foremost mast. He unwound the flag line and ran down the black flag, replacing it with the Rackham colours-- signal to the crew to get back if they saw it.  
    "Captain?" Gibbs prompted, watching the other man work. There was none of the usual Jack Sparrow finnesse, only the shaky, jerking movements of an upset man. "Captain, what happened? Is Miss Elizabeth still coming with us?"  
    "Aye," he growled, attempting to cover the unevenness of his voice. He tied off the flag line and pushed past Gibbs, avoiding eye contact.  
    "Is William still coming with us?"  
    He stopped, blood running cold all over again. It took him a long moment to collect enough to answer. "...no. William's not coming with us."  
    "He's staying here?"  
    "No. Will's... William Turner is dead."  
    Gibbs attempted to say something, but simply mouthed nothing and looked like a fish.  
    Jack shook his head, then stormed back below-decks, past his quarters, and straight for the storeroom to get drunk.  
  
    "Where is he?" AnnaMaria asked, voice low in honour of the deceased.  
    Gibbs pointed to the door to below-decks, and shook his head. "Been in the storeroom for a little over an hour. No tellin' how he is."  
    "And Elizabeth?"  
    "Captain's quarters, with the little one and his father."  
    AnnaMaria nodded. "Get Elizabeth out of Captain's quarters and away from the corpse, 's not healthy for the child. Put her in my cabin. I'll see about Sparrow." She headed below-decks, the subdued and grieving crew watching sadly after.  
  
    "Open this door NOW!" AnnaMaria howled.  
    "FUCK NO!" Jack howled back, throwing a bottle against the door and listening with satisfaction as it shattered and glass went everywhere. "FUCK NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!"  
    "You know better than to think I will, Sparrow, you know me too well! Open the door!"  
    Sobbing. No 'that's CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow,' no 'go to hell.' Just sobbing. It scared her more than the cursing and yelling did. Jack Sparrow never cried. Jack Sparrow never cared. Or atleast, he didn't admit it.  
    For a long time, AnnaMaria simply listened to him sobbing, not knowing really what to do. She examined the door closely, then walked back to the hall. "GIBBS!" she shouted.  
    A harried-looking Gibbs materialized from her cabin, and William Turner the Third fussed from the same direction. "Now look what you went and did, woman!" he hissed, quietly closing the door after himself. He took several steps towards her, then whispered, "What d'ye want?"  
    "What did Sparrow do when he found out about Bootstrap?"  
    Gibbs frowned, forehead crinkling into a little pattern. "'E... He found out in a pub in Tortuga, I was there wi' him. Right after I stole me first ship with him. Your ship, actually. He stormed off to his room, and I found him later." Gibbs' whisper became even quieter, and his eyebrows reversed direction from confused to mournful. "He was trying to cut into his own neck with the broken end of a glass bottle, but he was shaking too hard to hold the glass--"  
    AnnaMaria took off running back to the storeroom door, slamming full force into it with her shoulder. "JACK SPARROW OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR OR I'LL BREAK IT DOWN!"  
    She didn't hear anything from the other side of the door, but Gibbs joined her shortly.  
    "YOU IDIOT!" she berated Gibbs, throwing herself at the door repeatedly. "You didn't think you should WATCH HIM or SOMETHING?! MORON!"  
    Gibbs stood and watched, slightly sheepish. "Well, I knew I didn't have to, 'cause-"  
    The door openned, and AnnaMaria hurtled through, colliding with the opposite wall.  
    "'E knew he didn't have to," Jack whispered hoarsely, "because I swore my life to the honour of Bootstrap. Now I owe both the Turners." He watched with disinterest as she hauled herself to her feet, dusting off.  
    AnnaMaria stared at him silently. Everything seemed to weigh on Jack Sparrow. He suddenly seemed smaller, hunched over like a man wounded. At any moment, she expected him to crumple to the ground and give up. There wasn't a glow behind his eyes like there used to be. "Jack-?"  
    He simply continued to stare at the floor.  
    "Captain."  
    He looked up at her, expression unreadable. "Are we still on course?"  
    "Aye sir."  
    "You an' Gibbs watch over things on deck fer awhile. I need to get really drunk an' pass out. I'll feel better after that." With that, he turned and went back to his corner of the store room, picking up another barely-translucent bottle and chugging the contents.  
    AnnaMaria bowed her head, sorry that she couldn't do anything more. "Aye sir."  
  
    Captain Jack Sparrow held Will's hat and sabre reverently. To his sides were AnnaMaria and Gibbs. Leading them into town was Elizabeth, carrying William Turner the Third in her arms.  
    The citizens of Port Royale stared as they passed by. Pirates and the governor's daughter. Where was the blacksmith that left them months ago? Why did that pirate captain carry his hat and weapon? One by one, craftsmen and the wives of craftsmen, as well as craftswomen, joined the solemn procession towards the church. They understood. He was on the bottom of the ocean, with his father. He was wrapped in the best linens the crew could steal and weighted with twice his mass in gold and silver. He was watching over them from beyond this life.  
    He was gone.  
    Jack clenched his jaw tightly to prevent himself from shouting or sobbing or cursing. The hangover hadn't buried any of the pain, as he hoped it would.  
    AnnaMaria kept an eye out for soldiers from the fort or any city officials; those she saw didn't bother them, mostly because of Jack. Since Captain Jack Sparrow helped to save the governor's daughter, was nearly hung, and escaped without a scratch, no pirates attacked Port Royale. None even wandered in. Smugglers were few and far between, and they only brought rum, sugar, and things that the people of Port Royale wanted, but the government forbid. Contraband was limited to alcohol and taxed tobacco. Life was unbelievably peaceful. No one wanted to change that by turning Jack in.  
    Gibbs had given up on composure long ago. Composure was a thing for pirate captains. Tears flowed down both his cheecks and he openly sniffled, mopping his nose with a dirty handkerchief and staring at the ground.  
    The church loomed at the end of the road, hunched and waiting for them as if it grieved also. The white walls and black roof seemed to blend to grey with the shadows from the trees and cliffs. Elizabeth approached the familiar building as if returning to the arms of a comforting relative. Gibbs was too busy crying to do anything but concentrate on climbing the steps without tripping. AnnaMaria made the sign of the cross upon entering.  
    Jack tensed when he entered the building. He felt hostility wrap around him like a noose.  
    They approached the alter and stopped, gazing up at the cross that hung over the alter.  
    _God receive William Turner into your kingdom,_ AnnaMaria prayed.  
    _He's a good man, Lord, look after him,_ Gibbs sniffled.  
    _Lord Christ, take Will into your house and let him watch over us,_Elizabeth wept. _Tell him every day that I love him, and one day we'll be together again._  
  
    Jack stared at the cross straight on. _You and I don't get along. You keep taking the ones I want to keep. Since I don't have much of a choice, you can keep him. But if You don't take good care of him, I'll climb my way out of Hell to rip you apart._  
    The others watched Jack stare almost angrily, then as he climbed the steps of the alter, set Will's hat and sword on the stone table at the foot of the cross, then stepped back to join them without turning away.  
    Jack left them in the church, striding back toward his ship.  
    _I'll take you on, God. Just try me. I'll have your skin for my sails._  
  
  


End.  
  
When I am laid in earth,  
May my wrongs create  
No trouble in thy breast.  
Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.  
~Dido's Lament  
  



End file.
